


Hawkeyed

by Crait



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Bisexual Kate Bishop, F/F, Humor, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crait/pseuds/Crait
Summary: What America doesn't know won't hurt her. Right?





	Hawkeyed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liebchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liebchen/gifts).



> This was originally what some people might call "an early start" and what other people might call a "placeholder," but I thought I'd give it an ending and throw it up anyway (and also those tags should more accurately read "Pining, Humor?"). Happy Yuletide!

The problem with being a Hawkeye was that being a Hawkeye came with certain stipulations. You had to have the prowess of an Olympic-level athlete, but you couldn't obviously _work_ at it, because the only thing worse than falling behind the telepaths and peaks-of-human-perfection on your team was making it obvious how hard you were sweating to keep up. You had to be able to break the tension with a well-timed quip or, barring that, with a well-timed controlled dive (i.e., "fall") into a dumpster. You had to be able throw, shoot, or otherwise launch any handheld item with the precision of a machine. And you could never, under any circumstances, handle your feelings for a teammate in a mature and forthright fashion.

So Kate fantasized.

"Hey, Hawkeye," Clint said. "I can't help but notice that you're spending more time practicing moping than you are archery."

"I don't need to practice archery," Kate said. "Archery is my superpower."

Clint shot her a well-we-both-know- _that_ -isn't-true look of pitying solidarity. "Okay," he said. "Sure. Play it cool. I can respect that."

"I'm not moping," Kate said. "What would I be moping about? My life is amazing. Madame Masque has... not tried to kill me for twelve days in a row, my superhero team is currently mostly-funded, my boyfriend definitely didn't dump me for reasons he won't disclose—"

"I know the reason," said Clint, because the only thing he did better than throw a wrench in Kate's plans was eat pizza, although he honestly wasn't great at that; there was a sauce stain on the front of his Dog Cops shirt and a fleck of something (red pepper? blood?) at the corner of his mouth. They were, miraculously, the only two people around that evening, which meant binging on junk food and watching old reruns of _Whose Line Is It Anyway._ (A secret of being a Hawkeye was that it was a really great tactic to counter emotional eating, because controlled dives into dumpsters burned A LOT of calories.)

"What?" Kate said. "What? What the futz. When did he tell you, I swear to god Clint." 

"He didn't _tell_ me," Clint said, "I figured it out. It's pretty obvious to anyone who knows you." He reconsidered. "Well, except America." Reconsidered again. "Well, maybe including America."

"WHAT IS IT," Kate said, at a volume just below the threshold that would worry Lucky.

"You smfglens America," said Clint. On the TV, Colin Mochrie made a terrible joke about murder in a cow pasture.

"I what who?"

"You—you know," Clint explained. "America."

"What about her? Whoops." Kate now had a matching stain on the front of her shirt. She picked an olive out of the sauce and ate it. No napkins were making themselves known, so she followed up by swiping up as much sauce as she could and licking it off her finger. "What about America?"

"You know," Clint said.

"No, I don't know, that's why I keep asking you."

"Okay well," Clint said. "You know that you... like America, right?"

"HA HA HA HA," Kate said. "Of course I do! She's my best friend! What you do to your friends is like them, I'm pretty sure even the Avengers aren't too dysfunctional to understand that—"

"You are wildly overestimating the Avengers," Clint said. "Ask me about Ultron's family tree sometime when—wait, not the point. The point is, you _like-like_ America."

Kate scoffed. "What does that even mean—"

"Katie," Clint said. "Katie-Kate. I'm saying this as a man who once jumped on Captain America's bed: I am not the pinnacle of emotional maturity, and even I can tell. You want to woo her. You want her to sweep you up in her big, strong, arms, and you want her to fly you to the top of the Empire State Building, and you want to gaze deeply into her eyes and say—"

"Clint-I-will-kill-you-if-you-tell-anyone."

"Uh, sure, that works. I wouldn't call her 'Clint,' though, that's weird and might make her think you have a thing for me."

"Oh, I have a thing for you," said Kate. "A sharp, pointy thing that's going right through your face."

"You _liiiiiiike_ her," Clint said in a sing-song. The imaginary conversation devolved from there, since apparently Kate was incapable of imagining any real resolution. She needed to stop fantasizing about this. She needed to stop making up scenarios in her head where literally anyone called her out on her feelings for America, revealed them to America over Kate's protests, and pushed them into each other's arms. It was a whole thing, though, now; when she was showered, when she was falling asleep, when she was walking back from the grocery store, she would fall into these awful, saccharine daydreams. Often they ended with kissing, or with dramatic declarations, or with both, and whoever the third party was always sounded like a teenager teasing a friend about a crush, even when the third party was a thirty-something man who was currently asleep and drooling at the other end of the couch.

He did have pizza sauce on the front of his Dog Cops shirt, though. At least her fantasies were realistically detailed.

Maybe she should wake him up. Clint had dated teammates before. He had even married them, and that had worked out okay, hadn't it? Not that he and Bobbi were still married, but they still got along, more or less. Yeah. She would do that. She would kick Clint until he woke up, and then she'd ask him what to do, and then he'd say something like... like...

Fortunately, at that moment America punched her way into the living room.

"Hey, princess," she said, and then she dropped down on the couch between Kate and Clint. Kate pulled up her legs to offer a little more room, but America caught her ankle and pulled Kate's legs over her own lap. Oh! Okay! That was fine! It was just a thing they did now!

"Hey," Kate said. Her voice cracked. She tried it again. "Heeeey."

"What's going on with you? Your face looks weird."

Oh god. She had sauce on her face, didn't she? She started hunting around for a napkin, but America rolled her eyes and said, "Not like _that_ , chica."

"Oh," Kate said. "Uh, nothing. Just thinking about waking Clint up to ask him something."

America tossed an improbably fond look in Clint's direction. In response, Clint started, very delicately, to snore. "Nah," she said. "Let him sleep, he needs it. Burns the candle at both ends. Just like you."

"That's okay," said Kate. "It's more of a question about you anyway. For you. I mean a question for you."

"Oh, yeah?" said America. "You got something to ask me, princess?"

"Yeah," said Kate. "Yes. Yes, I do. America," she said. Oh man. Oh god. There were so many ways this could go. _America, I'm in love with you. America, I want to futz you. America, please don't find another girl to date._

What came out of her mouth was: "America, I'm not that straight."

America's smile was pan-dimensional. "That's not a question," she pointed out.

"Okay." Kate was not panicking. "Okay. America." _Marry me._ "I should start small, right? Baby steps." This was so dumb. Also, she needed to stop asking America: Her Best Friend for advice in the middle of asking America: Her Best Crush out for coffee or possibly a lifetime commitment. "Pretend I didn't say that," she said. "Okay. America. Would you—"

What happened next was so impossible that Kate wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't heard it herself. In what was the uncoolest moment of her entire life, America didn't even wait until the words were out of Kate's mouth. She said, _"YES."_


End file.
